Fostered
by Completed Irony
Summary: Three Cities. Five Teenagers. One Flawed System. Can broken lives ever be made right? Is it even worth the cost to try?


**Title: **Fostered  
**Rating: **M  
**Summary: **Three Cities. Five Teenagers. One Flawed System. Can broken lives ever be made right? Is it even worth the cost to try?**  
Pairings: **Alice/Jasper. Emmet/Rosalie.  
**Warnings: **All is not unicorns and rainbows. Not everyone in the world is nice. There will be drug usage, abuse, bad language, and people ranging from somewhat to very damaged. There will also be sex - but never smut. Sex of dubious consent and past incest will be mentioned or implied but _ALWAYS _off-screen. Please take these warnings seriously; this fic is rated M for a reason.  
**Disclaimer: **Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. They are not mine; I'm just borrowing them.

* * *

**Houston**

* * *

He pulled his bike up to the curb. A quick double check of the number affixed to the mailbox, then he pulled the key out of the ignition and thrust it in his front pocket. The military style duffel bag strapped to the back of his bike was a lot lighter than it looked. Hefting it over his shoulder, his mind was pulled back to the little girl responsible for its emptiness.

Poor Nettie. It didn't matter how many homes he was placed into and removed from, he always felt for the little ones. They dealt with more pain than the average person dealt with in a lifetime, and if he could make them laugh or smile, even for a single moment, almost any sacrifice on his part was worth it. This time it was his _Chicago - The Windy City_ sweatshirt. She had loved it instantly, pouring out story after story and dream after dream. She wanted to travel, see all the big cities in the U.S. then move onto the world. She had begged for tales of the street he grew up on. It was much easier to appease her with a gift.

As he pressed the doorbell to the quaint suburban house, he sighed. He could already tell it wouldn't last. The neighborhood was too peaceful, the lawn too well-maintained. He would stick out like a sore thumb. The neighbors would talk. Some spoiled little rich kid would spend their pocket money on drugs and everyone would know. They'd peek out their storm-proofed, energy conserving windows and whisper to each other on their overly priced cell phones as he walked down the street. It had happened before.

The door swung open.

"Mom! He's here!"

It was hard to believe the squeal dash scream had come from such a small person. He looked down at her. Dark brown hair and green eyes peered at him in blatant fascination.

His ears were still ringing.

"Hi." A single softly spoken word was all it took.

She beamed. He noted her missing teeth with amusement.

The rhythmic tap of high heels on tile flooring drew his eyes up. In front of him now stood a woman. Black-brown hair and dark eyes gave away her Hispanic descent. A quick glance at the young girl verified his gut instinct. Nothing but parentage gave such similar features.

"Mrs. Gutierrez? I'm Jasper Whitlock," he said calmly as he put out his hand.

His mother may not have been around a lot before, but she had firmly always advocated the need for manners. The lesson hadn't really taken till after he was pulled out of his fourth foster home, with his then foster parents' admonition to his case worker that he was one of "the bad types - no manners". He learned that first impressions did count, and his motorcycle coupled with his military demeanor generally put him at an automatic disadvantage unless he pulled out the charm. Charm he could do.

She laughed as she took his hand in hers.

"Please, no need to be so formal. Call me Maria. It's a pleasure to have you here," she smiled as she spoke.

Jasper felt a chill run down his spine.

It was going to be one of those homes. The suburban area. The informality. The anticipatory smile.

He idly wondered if she had even asked her husband before starting the paper work and training to be a foster parent.

There were very few reasons why people became foster parents. There were even fewer reasons why when they could have children of their own and were well-off.

He would have to be on his guard. It may have been years since he last went to church, but he had a good memory. Joseph hadn't just magically appeared in prison. Samson hadn't just tripped over a barber and gotten a haircut.

He toed off his beaten in black shoes, to be polite if nothing else, then followed Maria into what looked like the living room. The little girl walked next to him, seemingly still in awe.

Jasper looked down at her. She could prove useful. He slowed to a stop and turned fully to face her.

"I can't believe I've been so rude," he stuck out his hand, "I'm Jasper. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, darlin'."

Her eyes widened so much he could picture them falling straight on out. And then she giggled.

"I'm Lucy." She tentatively reached for his outstretched hand and grasped it.

"Lucinda," the two looked up, "maybe you should go wash up before lunch."

"But I -"

"Now, Lucy."

She fled quickly up the stairs.

He stared at Maria. The look of malice she had sent at her own daughter melted off her face as she noticed his observation. He forcibly suppressed a shudder.

"You should set that down. It looks heavy;" she gestured at the foot of the stairs, "you can take it up to your room after lunch."

It still wasn't heavy, but his arm was starting to get sore from being pulled tight across his chest, so he did as she asked with some relief.

When he turned back, she was sitting on a pristine white couch. He idly wondered how she managed to keep it so, especially with such a young daughter.

"Please, Jasper, sit. Let's get to know each other a bit."

He sat. There was little else he could do. Submission was the best way, the safest. He would do his best to play her little game without letting anyone get caught in the crossfire. If it meant making sacrifices, he would.

He had a feeling she would want nothing less than everything he had left. So be it. It was nothing new.

He had less than a year left, and then he could get the hell out. Of the system. Of the state. There was only one place he wanted to be, and it certainly wasn't Houston, Texas.

"Well, what would you like to know?" he asked, as he plucked a piece of thread from his worn jeans.

The smile that slowly overtook her face was nothing if not predatory.

* * *

**Boston**

* * *

The run was nothing. He could do three miles in his sleep. A runner he wasn't, but he knew his shit.

Running kept his stamina up, kept him in shape.

He wasn't one of those lame body builders who looked like they could lift a Mack truck but in reality couldn't even lift their own dicks.

And running was easy. It didn't cost anything except time. No fancy, expensive gym membership necessary. No stupid little wannabes begging for his attention. No distractions.

Just him and the sidewalk. The pounding beat of Linkin Park ringing in his ears.

It wasn't really serving its purpose. He couldn't stop thinking.

He was behind on his homework again and he was pretty sure he was failing his English class. Who the hell cared about the significance of the color red in _Jane Eyre_? Innocent chick, orphan, wa-wa, boarding school, dead friend, babysitting, hot old rich dude, lame angst, melodramatic runaway scene, bat-shit crazy lady, fire, tearful reunion. The end.

He wasn't stupid. He could read. But why should he care?

A high school education could get the exact same job at McDonald's as no high school education. It was worth shit.

His only chance was nailing a baseball scholarship.

Or nailing the admissions chick, quickly followed by the financial aid bitch, but that route was doubtful. With his shitty life they'd all be 300 pound males, just paroled from prison.

Or he could actually try at school. Math was easy and physics wasn't too bad. He just didn't have the fucking time.

Between practice, making sure the runts were all taken care of, working at the car-wash and the bowling alley... doing homework was the last thing on his mind, never mind taking the time to actually study.

He forced the idea of college out of him mind. There was no fucking way, unless the universe decided to throw him a bone.

He picked up his pace.

He would start looking for better jobs, and work harder at practice.

He was already sending all his money home, but maybe if he got a raise... There was always a chance he could save some of it. And if he could save enough to get his own place...

Sharon could take Caroline, and he could take Jared. They'd have somewhere to go when they aged out. They'd be together as a family again.

Family.

He spit and kept running.

They hadn't really been a family since _he'd_ died. The bastard.

The Grey's dog ran parallel to him inside their fence, barking its head off at him like it did every morning.

He never understood why he was so mad at _him_. It really wasn't _his_ fault that _she_ couldn't deal.

_But he'd died._

And that was no one's fault but _his_ own.

_He_ picked the job. _He_ didn't move out of the way. _He_could have paid for better insurance. _He _could have bought a condom once in a while.

_He_ could have fucking _stayed._

He glanced at his watch.

Fuck.

All his fucking thinking was making him late.

He needed to be back five minutes ago, and he still had five minutes to go.

He turned up his CD player as loud as it would go and focused.

He could think, have the damned pleasure of being angry at the world, later.

For now he had to suck it the fuck up. The real fucking world was knocking.

* * *

**Chicago**

* * *

"Edwwward…" she pleaded. He shook his head. There was no way in hell.

"Uganda? Really, Alice, what good would come of that? After all these years do you really want to see them again? And to go all the way there just to visit? If you really miss them so much, we can visit them when they come back to the states for a bit, but you're not going to Africa."

"You can't tell me what to do, Edward! You're not my older brother - seventeen minutes does not count - and you're certainly not my father! We're the same age!"

He winced and let out a sigh. When she got passionate about something (read: angry at him), she would speak faster and at increasing decibels. Coupled with that, she had a tendency to pace back and forth like one of the caged tigers he used to watch when he was younger at the zoo. Except smaller. And faster. And less predatory. And more hyper.

Bad comparison. He would have to think up a better analogy for future internal monologues.

Noticing his inattention, she lowered her voice, changing tactics. "I really do miss them, Edward. I know you still haven't forgiven them for leaving, but they just wanted to protect us and -"

"Alice, I know you think that, but they didn't _have _to leave us. Or they could have taken us with them. Six years, Alice, six!" He took a deep breath. "We could have been adopted. And if they weren't going to adopt us, they should have let us go to a family who would have."

She sat down next to him on the well-worn dorm sofa and he immediately leaned over and placed his head on her shoulder.

The common room wasn't much, just a few pieces of furniture, a stereo, and a television. The black leather sofa they occupied was by far the scruffiest thing in the room. The residents of their little dorm community liked it that way. Suspended from a nail on the wall above and slightly to the right of it was a roll of duct tape. Anytime the leather split there was always a mad rush of everyone in the vicinity to the almost sacred roll, and the first person to claim it got the privilege and pleasure of sealing its stuffing in once more.

Alice lightly tugged on one of the silver pieces that was starting to get unstuck.

"Do you really believe someone would have adopted us, Edward, the way we are?"

He remained silent, staring at nothing.

She kissed his forehead and stood up. He flopped back into the couch and came back to reality, his eyes focusing on hers.

"Please just think about it. I think it would be fun."

He laughed and smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Only you would think that spending the summer in Uganda of all places would be _fun._"

"I need to go practice for rehearsal later," she bounced on the balls of her feet and pulled her arms up over her head, "You have no idea how excited I am. I can almost hear the applause and see the standing ovation."

"Alice."

"What? I'm amazing and I know it. My choreography is stunning and I'm not going to apologize for it. No use being some sort of loser who pretends like he is not completely genius when he is, not that I know anyone like that at all."

"Alice." Psychic powers weren't needed to sense his annoyance. The growl in his voice spoke for itself.

She held up her hands in surrender.

"I'm going, I'm going." She paused at the turn into the corridor. "I'll see you at dinner?" She had meant it as a command, but it had somehow slipped out as a question.

He thought a moment then nodded.

"I may be a bit late, but please don't worry your pretty little head about it."

She laughed then sent him a mock glare.

* * *

**Boston**

* * *

_Everybody's watching you now  
__Everybody waits for you now _

She slowly faded back into awareness. The room was dark. She blinked slowly then rolled onto her side, her head tucked between her arm and pillow. Just five more minutes.

_What happens next?  
__What happens next?  
__I dare you to move  
__I dare you to move_

Shut up. She wanted to scream but it would take too much effort. She uncurled, her pillow now clutched to her chest.

_I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor  
__I dare you to move  
__I dare you to move  
__Like today never happened  
__Today never happened before _

She found the darkness comforting in some ways. The ceiling of her room lacked depth. She could feel the soft sheets surrounding her and snuggle into her comforter and make the world go away. She could. But she wouldn't.

_Welcome to the fallout  
__Welcome to resistance_

Because the darkness would fade away. The sun would shine in though the cracks and shed light on everything that was better left in the dark. Things she chose to leave, firmly and resolutely hidden in the shadows. She couldn't watch, she wouldn't.

_The tension is here  
__The tension is here_

Her ears focused in on her alarm. It was too loud. She had left it too long. She had probably woken everyone else up. And she hated this song.

_Between who you are and who you could be  
__Between how it is and how it should -_

Her hand slammed down, shutting it off. The stinging left was almost a comfort. Almost.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this introductory entry into the lives of these teens. Hopefully you can figure out who everyone is. Stylistically, this story is going to stay the same, with each chapter being a peak into their lives.

For me, this is a writing exercise, so beware. I wanted to push myself into using the 3rd person, and play with different writing styles and voices. Jasper, Alice, and Edward's parts in the story are going to be very plot and dialogue driven (cause I need practice with not allowing my characters bash my plot to pieces). Emmet is going to be very internal, introspective (because I wanted to get inside his head). Rosalie is going to be just trying to get above the pain and be an active human participant in the world (because it is too easy to make her into a stereotypical bitch).

And now you maybe wondering... where in the world is Bella Swan?

Well, that's easy. Not in this fic. Not because I dislike Bella or have anything against her (In fact, I'm already working on a 1st person pov fic featuring Bella in the leading female role). Merely because I can already play in her head, and if I need to work on nailing her voice, I can check myself against _Twilight_. Plus, this story was what came from asking myself "What if the cover story was actually true, but the Cullen's (Carlisle and Esme) never entered the picture?" and then it ran away from there. Bella has parents, and I would hate to take them away from her.

However, if you like really really need Bella, for your peace of mind or whatever, here is a small outtake from the above chapter.  
"Bella the B.I.T.C.H - Black Infested Taped-up Couch of Horniness - was pretty much sacred. Edward and his peers enjoyed the simple pleasures of life. Playing Knight-In-Shining-Armor to a woman who wouldn't demand all their time... boss them around... get mad when they brought other girls into the vicinity... was certainly one of them. Plus she was comfy." Happy? Probably not. Welcome to my brain.

Anyways, sorry about the overlong AN (not really), thank you so much for checking this fic out (most definitely), please review (about anything... love it, hate it, want to beta, think I'm an a-hole? Feel free.)!


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